you and i were made for this
by qaby
Summary: I was made to taste your kiss. DE. / He smiles that eye-crinkling, beautiful smile of his that never fails to make Elena's heart skip a beat, and his smile widens once he hears her pulse accelerate.   "Because you love me."


"You should've let me rip his throat out," he tells her indignantly, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it on the hook carelessly and she resists the urge to roll her eyes at his melodramatics as he goes to pour himself a glass of bourbon. "I would've done so gladly."

"I know," she sighs, seating herself down on the couch and watching as the flames dance below the mantel with mild interest. Elena kicks off her boots and starts work on removing a knot that had formed in the chain of her vervain necklace below her scarf.

Damon watches in silent amusement as her eyebrows crease and her lips purse in determination while handling the delicate amber chain with care. He rolls his eyes and goes behind the couch, lifting her hair and moving it over her right shoulder. She feels him turn the chain on her neck gently and unclasp it, and she sends a smile of gratitude his way as he sits next to her on the couch.

Elena watches his fingers fiddle with the jewelry in silent wonder, inching her way to his side, grasping his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder, her lips tugging at the corners when he holds up her knot-free necklace, because _of course _he'd get it done flawlessly. She takes the piece of jewelry from his hand and places it on the small table beside the couch before relaxing back into her boyfriend's body.

He raises an eyebrow down at her. "Why Elena, are you sure that's a wise decision?" She looks up at him beneath her eyelashes and he sends a smirk her way. "I _do_ have the power to make you do _anything_, you know," he reminds her, eyebrows waggling suggestively as his eyes move to and fro the necklace and her face.

Her only response is to scoff, because they both know he'd never _ever _do that to her. He takes a deep breath as he wraps his arm around her waist, still not very used to the very clear fact that she's _his_, and she tightens her hold around his abdomen, her silent reassurance. They stay like that, Elena drifting in and out of sleep as she watches the fire and listens to Damon's even heartbeat against the confines of his chest while he rubs small circles on her stomach distractingly.

"Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?" she murmurs.

He chuckles slightly at the sound of her groggy voice before turning serious once more.

"Why didn't you let me kill the bastard that was trying to feel you up?"

Damon's jaw tenses at the reminder of driving to pick her up, only to find the creep's hands roaming all over Elena's body outside of her dorm building, his fist clenching when the memory of Elena's hopeless and scared expression runs through his mind as she tried to fight him off but was failing miserably. Of course, Damon screeched to a stop and pried the jerk off of her with one hand before thrusting him into the nearest wall, his fangs begging for release, spidery veins already starting to appear below his eyes as he walked towards the douchebag's body, only to be stopped by Elena's hand on his arm, pleading brown eyes preventing him from going any further.

"No need to relapse, now, is there?"

Her voice brings him out of his reverie, and he can feel the blood boiling in the pit of his stomach and his muscles tighten, ready to go in for the kill, so he leans down and presses his nose into her hair, the scent of vanilla that radiates off of her tresses never failing to calm him down.

"I'm not addicted to drugs, Elena."

"No," she agrees, sitting up with a slight yawn as she turns to face him. "You're addicted to murder, which is infinitely worse."

His eyebrows scrunch together for a moment, mulling over her statement before his lips purse. "You're still alive," he notes softly, running his index finger lightly over her cheek, smiling fondly at the heat that rises to her skin in the wake of his touch. "Why should it matter if sucking people dry is one of my favorite pastimes?" he asks, feigned innocence tainting each word, shrugging one shoulder to add effect.

Elena gives him a pointed look. "It does," she insists. "I won't allow you to go back to being the selfish bastard you were when we first met." She takes his hand in both of hers and runs her thumb over the silver of his ring before continuing. "Killing filled that quota."

Damon raises his free hand to his chest in mock hurt and scoffs. "Ouch. You wound me, darling. Here I was, thinking that you found me the most charming when we were practically strangers."

She raises her eyebrow and refrains from smacking him on the arm at his ridiculous assumption. "What on _earth _made you think that?" she inquires incredulously.

He narrows his eyes slightly as he thinks. "I don't know. Maybe it was the slaps," he answers after some consideration, blissfully aware of her disbelieving expression. "Or the refusal to be in the same room with me." He sends her a lascivious smirk before he pushes her back onto the couch using his vampire speed. Her eyes widen for a nanosecond and she breathes a curse before she calms down and sends a minute glare his way. "You _so _wanted me," he declares confidently.

She narrows her eyes at his use of the past tense and pushes up against his chest until he's on his back and she's straddling him, her hair fanning out above his face as she quickly presses a butterfly kiss to his neck. "I want you even more now, that I know the _true _Damon," she ensures. He smirks because she didn't deny that she wanted him when they first met, but he knows that his eyes soften as they search hers, only to find that she sincerely meant what she just said.

"Why is that?"

Damon's hands travel to the top of her thighs and she inclines her head slightly. "Why do you _think_?"

He smiles that eye-crinkling, beautiful smile of his that never fails to make Elena's heart skip a beat, and his smile widens once he hears her pulse accelerate.

"Because you love me."

He gulps and her heart starts beating even faster at the reminder that he doesn't hide his vulnerability from her, so she can see it now; his lapis lazuli eyes are so childish, so unsure of where her feelings lay for him, even after a thousand times of her declaring them. She gives him a small nod and he breathes a sigh of relief quiet enough so it doesn't reach her human ears. Elena lowers her head and presses her lips against his gently, a fire igniting in the pit of both their stomachs like it always does.

"Not nearly as much as you love me," she whispers, teasing him as she tugs at his lower lip between her teeth.

He chuckles, placing his hands on her hips and turning them over in one fluid motion so that he is now hovering over her, running the back of his hand over her cheek and trailing it down to her stomach lightly as he kisses her once more. He lifts her shirt slightly so that he can grip her bare waist and he smirks through the kiss when he feels her shiver.

"That's debatable."

Her legs wrap around his waist and she tugs his shirt over his head hastily, nodding as she wounds one of her arms around his neck while the other one lays against his chest.

"Yeah, it is," she breathes.

He pretends not to hear her, but the erratic beating of his heart that she can feel against her palm totally gives him away, and she smiles when he hastily pulls her back in for another kiss.

...

It doesn't really matter that a couple of hours later, he makes sure Elena is asleep before covering up her body with a blanket, going to dig in the pockets of his jacket, an evil glint in his eye as he stares down at the student ID that came from the wallet that he'd managed to steal last night.

_Jack Michaels, Building C, Room 26._

She's wrong - sort of. He's not _addicted_ to killing, he just merely gets a kick out of watching people suffer. Especially people that deserve it. That's why he hasn't spilt a drop of innocent blood in _years_.

So when he knocks politely on the bastard's dorm room and he opens it, recognition quickly etching his features - because there is no way the asshole _didn't _see how _monstrous_ Damon's face looked the night before - , the vampire decides to have a little fun, laughing maniacally as he tries to run away from him, because, _really_?

This sad excuse for a human laid a forceful hand on _his woman _and he expects to get out _alive_?

That's just _too good_.

...

When Damon reenters the house to find Elena in the kitchen, looking through his refrigerator, looking gorgeous and thoroughly _fucked_, he goes over behind her and wraps his arms around her. She slightly jumps and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her neck as she relaxes and leans back into his chest, laying her hands over his, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips as he continues his assault.

"Did he scream?"

Her tone is knowing - because _hell yes_, she knew Damon wasn't going to abide by her rules for long, especially not when it concerned someone that had hurt her - , but the farthest thing from angry - because she thinks it endearing and she loves him all the more for insisting on defending her honor - , and he smiles into her skin.

"Oh yeah."

She sighs, but he doesn't miss the slight quirk of her lips, and his smile turns into a full-blown grin, because he always knew that there was a _tiny _portion of evil in her, and he _adores_ it. Oblivious to his assessment, Elena goes over to the cabinets and starts rifling through the contents.

"Do you want pancakes? Or eggs?"

He shakes his head and chuckles, because _this woman_. Damon leans against the counter and grins as he watches Elena moving around, realizing that she was wrong about one more thing; there is no way in _hell _that she loves him more than he loves her.

It's just _not possible_.

Because, finally having Elena Gilbert as his own?

_Totally_ worth every single ounce of shit he's had to endure.

"What I _want_, is my shirt," he retorts. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks down at herself. "But more than that, I want the one who's _wearing_ it," he continues, and she smirks, setting down the pancake mix and walking slowly towards him, unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt with each step she takes, and he swallows, his throat thick with anticipation.

"Well, I guess that's only fair," she says, her voice thinly laced with desire. "Considering they're both yours."

As he steps forward and pushes his shirt off of her bare shoulders, he grasps the back of her thighs and sets her on the counter. She breathes a small giggle, and attacks his lips with her own as her hands go to work on his belt buckle.

"Why Mr. Salvatore, I'm shocked," she breathes into his ear, and he resists the urge to shiver as her warm breath hits his skin. "Kitchen sex?"

He smirks as he pries her legs open with his hands.

"It's our signature."

* * *

**Reviews are love.**

**A/N: **Elena attends whatever college you want her to attend - I made all that up, obviously. What happened to Stefan, some of you may ask. I dunno, whatever happened to the younger Salvatore is up to your imagination - he could've jumped off a cliff, he could've been staked, he could've moved, he could've run off and had his happily ever after with Caroline...*sigh* Oh wait, that's _my _imagination. _Anyways_, to be perfectly honest, I never thought DE fluff was possible, but lookie here, I proved myself wrong - so what if it's sort of AU? It's DE and that's all that matters. Consistency, people. Consistency! These two master it all; the angst, the drama, the humor, the passion, the household - _kitchen_ - chores, the _cuteness_! Such genius. Title comes from the song "Letters From The Sky" by Civil Twilight.


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